


Tell me you love this (tell me you’re not miserable)

by Sunqueen



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: A/B/O, Alexander Pierce is an asshole in every universe, Alpha Natasha Romanov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Blow Jobs, Brock is an asshole in every universe, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mating, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Omega Bucky Barnes, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, Some violence in later chapters check chapter notes, Sub Bucky Barnes, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunqueen/pseuds/Sunqueen
Summary: Bucky’s so happy for Nat, that she found someone to mate with so young. And knowing Clint’s not the perfect omega had at one point given Bucky hope there was someone out there for him, too.Of course, that was years ago. He doesn't harbor any such petty fantasies anymore. He's learned the hard way to stop being foolish like that.Or: Bucky has had his fill of Bad Relationships(™) and he’s fine alone. Really. Honestly.Until he meets Steve.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 26
Kudos: 215





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Title from Richard Siken Bot
> 
> I’ve been told Tony is OOC in this, sorry if that rubs you the wrong way. It's just how he acted in this story :) 
> 
> It’s unbeta’ed. And waaaay out of my comfort zone. I wrote this years ago and decided to post it now. I like writing the healing process of traumatized people, so this is basically a super self-indulgent fic I never actually intended to post. *Jaskier voice* and yet, here we are.
> 
> I will update roughly every week if I remember to do so. I have approximately 16/18 chapters somewhat done but I need to edit it. A lot. 
> 
> Some chapters will have specific tags I chose not to use for the whole story. I will add a note for those chapters. Tags will be updated on the go. Enjoy!!

The apartment is homey, filled with comfortable furniture and oozing the comforting scents of _happiness_ and _mates_. Bucky likes it here and he sips his beer, leaning back into the fluffy couch. 

“You got any plans for the night?” Nat’s perched on the armrest, a perfectly shaped brow cocked at her question. Bucky looks at her, at her vibrant red hair and her stunningly beautiful face, and wonders how anybody in their right mind could ever think she'd present as an omega. Even when they were kids, she’d had the poise only Alphas possess.

Then again, everyone thought he'd be an Alpha, so there's that, too. 

“Not really. Had a bit of a taxing day at work,” he replies. “Was thinking I'd just order in some Thai and watch crap television.” 

“You should get out more,” Natasha says carefully. “Meet people that aren't clients. Get some fresh air. I don't know, live a little?” 

Bucky looks down at his hands in his lap. The right one is curled into a loose fist, the left one still covered by a thin leather glove to hide the gleaming metal it's made of. “I don't need that to be happy, Nat,” he says quietly. 

At the other end of the apartment, something clatters, followed by a curse so colorful it makes them both smirk. Clint’s usually grace personified, but sometimes he gets lost in his head a little and he gets clumsy. Nicknamed Hawkeye, you'd never guess that apart from his frighteningly accurate aim, he also has the tendency to stumble over his own feet when distracted. It's why he and Nat are such a great couple - she keeps him tight and he allows her to let go from time to time. Clint’s an omega, like Bucky, and like Bucky, you'd never tell on first glance. 

Nat found Clint ten years ago, their bond instant and pure. Clint and Bucky became fast friends at their first meeting, their quick wit and matching sense of humor the foundation of a lifelong friendship. Nat had loved it, called them both her little family for a while. They stuck with him too, through... through the crap that happened after. 

Bucky’s so happy for Nat, that she found someone to mate with so young. And knowing Clint’s not the perfect omega had at one point given Bucky hope there was someone out there for him, too. 

Of course, that was years ago. He doesn't harbor any such petty fantasies anymore. He's learned the hard way to stop being foolish like that. 

“Listen,” Nat says, pulling him back from his thoughts. “There's this guy, an Alpha. A friend of mine. His name’s St-”

“No,” Bucky says resolutely, interrupting her. He winces automatically, wonders if he should apologize.

“You should just meet him, Buck. He's so nice, not at all like -”

“I said no,” Bucky replies, voice a bit firmer now. He won't be able to actually raise his voice to Nat, since she's an Alpha and all, but they've known each other long enough and he knows how he can make his point come across. He can even interrupt her to some extent, if she's in a good mood and lets him. It's… freeing to be able to do so. 

“Buck,” she says, almost pleading. 

“Natashenka,” he replies. “ _Njet_.”

He tries to ease his rejection with a bit of a joke. They grew up neighbors, and they’d had the same Russian babysitter who’d taught them the basics. Both able to pick up languages quickly, they'd become quite good at it and they'd kept up the practice, even if just to annoy their friends by switching to a language nobody else around them can understand. 

The Russian makes Nat smile, a little. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

Clint uses that moment to step into the room, looking groomed and smelling divine, even to Bucky. 

“You about ready to go?” he asks Natasha, his face breaking open in the sweetest smile when his gaze lands on her. 

“Been waiting for you, sweets,” Nat replies with a similar soft smile. “Your aids have fresh batteries?”

Clint nods. “Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

They're going to a concert, Bucky knows. He just hopped by after work to wish them a good night.

A concert isn't something that Clint thought he'd ever be able to enjoy again a few years back. They'd been on their way home from a visit to the fair, the two of them. They could go out like that, because Clint smelled mated and so they were both left alone, mostly. And Nat was awesome enough to let them go out together without wanting to follow them around to protect them. 

They’d been on Bucky’s bike, as they usually were when they went out together. Bucky had saved up hard for it and he enjoyed the sense of freedom riding his bike always gave him.

Not that day. Going home, they’d been hit by a truck that came out of nowhere, catapulting them both away from the bike. When Bucky’d come to, he was already on his way to the hospital. He remembers vividly the blinding pain on his left side, but only after he woke up for the second time, when he’d come out of surgery, did he learn about the full extent of the damage. 

The truck driver had been drunk. The bike was totaled, which wasn’t a surprise. Clint had lost most of his hearing on the impact. And Bucky lost his left arm that day.

He’d never driven a bike again, and only recently had he been able to let go a little of the crushing guilt he still felt when he looked at Clint’s hearing aids. Clint had forgiven him easily, though. As had Natasha. Said it wasn’t Bucky’s fault. The truck driver had been wrong, and drunk, and also an ass. Clint said he’d never noticed that truck, either. And if the roles were reversed, would Bucky hold a grudge?

Well, no, but that didn’t mean Bucky felt _better_ about it. 

At least his aids worked fantastically for him, and Bucky had learned ASL at the same speed as Natasha and Clint so they could communicate easily when Clint got tired and his brain couldn’t make sense of the sounds anymore. 

But still.

He sighs, and looks up when Nat places a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back to the present. He doesn’t quite like the look in her eyes. She’s worried. 

“You smell of sadness,” she says by way of explanation. 

“Sorry. Just thinking.”

“Come on by this weekend,” she says. “We can go see a movie or something.”

“My heat’s due,” he murmurs, warmth rising to his cheeks. He won’t even be able to leave his place, let alone go somewhere as public as a cinema.

“Oh, right, you said. I knew that. But we need to go. Don't want to be late,” she says. “You got everything, babe?” she asks Clint, who nods and goes to get their coats. His tummy is just now barely beginning to show - at four months pregnant he’s glowing with health and happiness. Nat smiles at his back, then shifts her gaze back to Bucky. “You sure you don't want either of us to come with you tomorrow?”

“It's fine,” Bucky says. “But thanks.”

“Anytime. Call us to let us know how it went?”

“It's just a check up,” Bucky says, defensive. “It's not a big deal.”

“It's about you,” Nat says, in a voice that brooks no argument. “It's a big deal.”

“Just go enjoy your concert,” Bucky replies, getting up. He can drop by that Thai place on his way home, take the food to go. 

Nat looks like she wants to say something, but decides against it. Instead, she opens the door and gestures for Clint and him to get through first. It's one of those quirks that helps Bucky remember not all Alphas are awful - Nat never lets her omega come second. 

“Have fun,” Bucky says. He'd have joined them if he could stand being in a crowd. 

“I’ll try to record that song for you if you want,” Clint says. Bless him for not trying to convince Bucky to join them anyway. 

“That would be great, but you should really just enjoy the show. Don’t worry about me.”

Clint turns fully to Bucky and widens his eyes comically. “We _always_ worry about you. And you let us know how tomorrow goes, or I’ll come haunt you for details myself.”

“I will,” Bucky says. He’s smiling now, pulling on his coat as Natasha locks up and they all pile into the elevator. 

It’s chilly out, fall turning into winter slowly. It’s going to rain soon - he can feel it in his left shoulder. He walks Nat and Clint to the subway station and then takes a left into the direction of the Thai restaurant. If he’s quick about it, he can be home before the cold really settles into his bones.

  
  


Stark Tower is intimidating. Bucky steps through the big entrance and crosses the lobby just before 2 pm that next day, feeling as out of place as he always does. The floors are sleek marble and the ceiling is impossibly high. The people milling about are all wearing smart suits and shiny shoes. Bucky always feels as if people are looking down at him, and they probably do. He’s in his favorite red sweater today under his coat, and he’s wearing a baseball cap against the rain. He looks nothing like the groomed men and women here, but alas. At least he’s never had the desire to be one of them, either.

“How can I help you?” the female Beta at the reception desk asks him. She’s polite about it, but she’s new, and Bucky can tell by the hesitation in her eyes that she thinks he’s lost. 

“I have an appointment with Tony Stark,” he replies. “Barnes. At two.”

She looks at him doubtfully, but to her credit, shifts her gaze to the computer screen and starts clicking. “Barnes, Barnes… I’m sorry sir, there’s nobody with your name in his schedule.”

Bucky frowns. “Can you look again? I’m sure it was today.”

She doesn’t even look at the screen, instead takes her time to look him up and down. His wet baseball cap, his long hair, his stubble. His worn but well-loved boots. She doesn’t see a man. She sees an out-of-place omega and she’s not inclined to help out at all. Her face changes as her distaste makes itself known.

“You must be mistaken,” she says with an air of satisfaction. “You can’t have any business here.”

“Well, can you at least call Tony and ask him about it?” Bucky asks, starting to feel irritated. 

“Sir,” she says, looking stricter now. “There is no way I am interrupting Mr. Stark. You have no idea how many people come by this desk daily with the same request as you. If you don’t have an appointment, you will not reach him. That’s how it works.”

Bucky nods once. He’s not going to win this. “Can I just make a phone call then?”

She’s done, he can tell. “You can use your own phone. Sir, if you don’t leave, I am going to have to ask security to escort you out.”

Wow, that went downhill fast, Bucky thinks. He steps back from the desk and pulls out his phone. He stays within her hearing distance, just so he can see her face when he dials and his call is answered.

“Tony,” he says when he hears the other man’s voice. “I’m here for our appointment but-” he checks the name tag of the woman behind the desk - “Naomi here won’t let me up. Did you forget about me again?”

She looks up sharply at the mention of her name, and then picks up her phone. Calling security, probably. Bucky has approximately twenty seconds to get this sorted or there will be a scene.

“Oh Jesus,” Tony says. “I’m so sorry. Didn’t I tell Jarvis to write that down and get it sorted?” 

_I did schedule an appointment for Mr. Barnes and you, sir,_ the AI says in the background. _I just checked and it is definitely booked, but I put it down as JB as per your request. There might have been a mishap there._

“Well, there’s that,” Tony says. “Did you hear that, Buck?”

“I did,” Bucky says. “Can you help me out? I think security is on its way to show me the exit.”

“Oh for crying out loud,” Tony mutters. “Sometimes it really sucks to have staff that actually tries to do their job. Jarvis?”

_On it, sir._

Two security people, Alphas by the smell of them, are already on their way over to Bucky when both of them reach up to their ears simultaneously, pressing against the radios to hear the message better. Their expressions change from hostile to friendly in a heartbeat. It’s almost funny. When they reach Bucky, the left man smiles at him. “If you would follow me, sir. Mr. Stark asks that I personally escort you up to his floor.”

From the corner of his eye, Bucky can see Naomi’s jaw drop. He can’t help but stick out his tongue when he follows the security guard to the elevator. On his way over, the second guard walks over to the desk. He's saying something to the receptionist Bucky can't quite hear. From the way her expression changes, she just got fired. 

Bucky can’t find it in him to care.

The guard in the elevator punches the code that will give them access to Tony’s apartment. The ride up is swift, but even in a Stark elevator it takes a while to get to the top floor. 

“Sorry about that situation downstairs,” the security guard says quietly. “Sometimes we get overeager staff. We deal with a lot of nut jobs on a daily basis, claiming that they’re Stark’s personal friend or that they have business with them.”

“But I was in the schedule,” Bucky says, just as quietly. The guard is keeping a respectful distance, but Bucky doesn’t like being in an enclosed space with any Alpha. The man’s scent is subdued but still overwhelming to Bucky, and he takes shallow breaths. He clenches his fists and wills himself not to panic. 

“And sometimes we get idiot staff,” the guard says. “I’ve seen you here before, haven’t I?”

“I’ve been around,” Bucky says vaguely. His heart nearly skips a beat in relief when the elevator dings and the doors slide open. “Thanks,” he says over his shoulder when he steps out. Tony is waiting for him, typing away on his phone.

“Naomi has been reassigned to archive duty for a while,” Tony says by way of greeting. “Until she can learn how to read.”

“Sure she meant well,” Bucky murmurs. 

“Sure. But looking down on omegas is a capital offense in my book. A book she read when she got hired here, I might add.”

Bucky smiles softly at that. Tony Stark is famous for his relentless efforts in achieving equal rights and treatment for omegas. His staff is trained to treat everyone - workmate and client alike - equally. Naomi messed up, not only by looking down on Bucky for being an omega, but also because she refused to verify the appointment and therefore deciding for Tony that he shouldn’t want any business with him. 

“Anyway,” Tony says, “next time you can just go around to the private entrance and ring there, okay? Jarvis will know to let you in. You want a drink? Or do you want me to look at your arm first?”

“Let’s do that first,” Bucky says. He’s nervous and he knows it bleeds through in his voice.

“Sure,” Tony says. He starts walking, expecting Bucky simply to follow him to his workshop. It’s the smaller one, at the other end of the floor. Bucky peels off his leather glove on the way, stuffing it in the pocket of his coat. 

His prosthetic was a gift from Tony. After his accident, insurance provided him with a plastic arm that couldn’t move, but at least gave him something to fill up his sleeve with. When he found Tony, or well, Tony found him, the Alpha inventor designed this metal arm. It’s a prototype, really, but Bucky’s couldn’t have been happier to act as a test subject in this case. The arm connects to his central nervous system and he can move it like it’s real. He can even write with it, and considering he was born left handed, Bucky literally cried when he discovered that.

Now he’s ambidextrous. Nine years without a working arm goes a long way in acquiring such a skill. It’s… pretty damn handy, actually. Pun intended. 

“All right,” Tony says when they arrive in his working area. There’s desks littered with tools and prototypes lining the walls, and screens everywhere - both real and holographic ones. Tony’s tech is so advanced it’s like stepping into a science fiction movie. Bucky had nearly freaked out when Tony had brought him here the first time. 

Tony is a genius, a mad scientist, an Alpha, but also a great friend. Even if he doesn’t do social skills, as he has claimed repeatedly. His mate, an omega named Pepper Potts, is also his personal assistant and Bucky would count her a friend too if he saw her more often. But she’s even busier than Tony, keeping his life on track, it seems. 

The Alpha turns to Bucky and smiles. “Did I ask you how you’ve been? I didn’t, did I?”

“You didn’t,” Bucky says. “And I’m fine. How are you?”

“Good, good,” Tony replies distractedly. He’s already moved away again, calling up holographics and other data on Bucky’s arm. “How’s the arm?”

“Fine,” Bucky says.

Tony looks sharply over his shoulder at the answer. “You don’t smell fine when you say it’s fine. What’s wrong? You’re supposed to give me data on this.”

Bucky looks at his hands in his lap. Flexes the metal fingers and still revels that he _can_. 

“I don’t want to complain.”

Tony scoffs. “I’ve known you for over a year now and never heard you complain once. But let me check you out. Want to tell me what’s bothering you now or are you waiting until I find out myself?”

Bucky pauses. It’s hard to tell Tony what’s been going on. He got the arm for free and there is no way he wants to be negative about this monumental gift. So he keeps his mouth shut and starts pulling off his coat when Tony tells him to undress.

He hates taking off his clothes for anyone. Hates it because he’s scarred and because of all the other crap that happened. And even though he’s done it in front of Tony countless times, it still isn’t easy to lift up his shirt and then his undershirt off his shoulders. It’s chilly in the room and he shivers, curving in on himself.

“”You know the drill,” Tony says when he wheels over a stool. “Lift your arms for me.”

Tony must notice his unease, must smell it on him, but he doesn’t mention it. He never does. He knows what happened to Bucky, knows he’s skittish around Alphas, but he’s always calm and collected, and baseline distracted when he’s with Bucky. And he smells decidedly mated, which helps Bucky a lot when it comes to his own comfort. 

He moves his arms as directed, lifting them both and testing their range of motion. Tony checks for symmetry and fine motor skills and whatnot, and Bucky is able to lose himself a bit in the familiar motions of the check up.

“Let me see your back,” Tony says next, and that’s then Bucky tenses up again. Tony looks at him like he’s waiting for Bucky to admit that’s where the problem lies, but Bucky keeps his mouth shut and lets Tony wheel around him so he can check the omega’s back. 

“Ah, think I found what you didn’t want to complain about,” Tony says quietly. “I’m going to touch you. Don’t panic.”

Bucky still flinches harshly when he feels Tony’s fingertips brush against what’s left of his shoulder. It raises a mad itch and he fists his right hand to prevent himself from reaching up to scratch. 

“You’ve been working out,” Tony says, gently prodding and pushing. “That why it’s chafing. You’re getting big.”

Bucky blushes against his will. Yes. he’s been going to the gym. Being stronger helps him to feel safer. He can fight someone off now if they try something, and that feels… good. 

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Bucky says. “It’s not like there’s something wrong with the arm.”

“No, but still it doesn’t quite fit you anymore. Does it hurt? Be honest.”

“... A little.”

“Seems like a next prototype should allow for some give, I think. I’m going to scan this, see what I can do. Or do you need to be somewhere?”

Bucky already took the entire afternoon off, so he doesn’t have to go back to work. He shakes his head. 

“Good. Jarvis, can you get us both some coffee? And scan Bucky’s shoulder joint. Make sure you get a 3D rendering of his skin where it comes in contact with the metal. I need heat scans too.”

“Of course, sir. Would Mr. Barnes like to eat anything, too?”

Tony looks at him sharply. “Did you skip lunch again?”

“I’m just being polite, sir,” Jarvis interrupts. Saving Bucky’s ass. Again.

“Okay. Do you?” Tony asks then, repeating Jarvis’s earlier question.

“Sure,” Bucky responds. “If it’s no inconvenience.”

“It’s my pleasure, sir,” Jarvis says, and Tony stands back so the scans can be done.

Minutes later, Tony is pouring over the images while Bucky is munching on some scones. He’s put his shirt back on for the time being, and he looks around the workshop. Half-finished and forgotten robots are scattered around. There’s a working one around here somewhere, too, Bucky knows. It’s called Dum-E, and Tony has a soft spot for it the size of Canada. 

An hour has passed and Bucky is engrossed in a movie on his phone when Tony finally pushes back from his desk. 

“I think I can fix it. If you can spare another hour and you’re okay with me taking the arm to my big shop downstairs, I can do it right away.”

“Eh,” is Bucky’s eloquent reply. He doesn’t really like the prospect of taking off his arm when he’s not at home. 

Alone. 

In the dark. 

With the doors locked.

Tony looks at him, thinking. “I can ask Pepper to join you for a while?”

Bucky still frowns. He’d have liked some time to get used to the idea. Then again, getting rid of the chafe and the maddening itch it causes might be nice, too.

“Jarvis,” Tony says, not breaking Bucky’s gaze. 

“Already on it, sir. She will be here in five minutes.”

“Good,” Tony replies. “Take off your shirt again.”

Bucky sighs, the only defiance he dares to show, and reaches behind him to pull the fabric off his body. He looks away doggedly, gritting his teeth, while Tony unlocks the prosthetic limb and takes it out of the socket. Bucky lists to the right, off balance without the arm attached. What remains is the metal base connected to what’s left of his arm, a stub about four inches long. The metal is bolted into the bone, Bucky knows, but once that healed he never felt anything of it. Thankfully. It still looks like something straight out a horror movie, that’s for sure. 

He’s uncomfortable, his scent coming off him in waves, he knows, but he can’t help it. He feels rattled just with his shirt off - without his arm he feels even more exposed. He’s shaking, a thin sheen of perspiration starting to cover his shoulders and chest. Tony walks off with the arm, quite oblivious (and Bucky still doesn’t know if he should be grateful or annoyed by that), and right at that moment, Pepper enters the workshop. 

“Hey, James,” she says in her usual warm voice as she comes up behind him. Without preamble, she wraps a warm blanket around his shoulders, covering him up and taking his not-arm out of sight. He sags in relief, breath uneven, and she kisses his cheek.

Her scent is warm and earthy, comforting as always, and she simply hops up on the gurney so she’s sitting on his right side. “Tony being Tony again?”

Bucky breathes out a laugh. “Yeah, something like that.”

“He doesn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. He just doesn’t know how to put you at ease.”

“I’m so glad he’s helping me, though.”

“Doesn’t take away the fact that you don’t like being here. And that’s okay,” she says soothingly. “You don’t have to be brave all the time, you know.”

Her words stir up something deep inside Bucky’s gut but he pushes it down. He’s rattled enough as it is, no need to add any other emotions into that mix, thank you very much.

Pepper seems to notice his discomfort so she changes the subject of their conversation easily. What Tony lacks in social skills, she has in abundance. They talk about Bucky’s job and hers, about Tony’s latest experiments, and about the new law that passed that lowers income tax for omegas to the same level as Alphas’. It’s one of the final steps in achieving true equality, and while there are many people out there who still treat omegas like they’re less, at least omegas have more and more laws on their side. This new law means a significant pay raise for Bucky, too, for which he’s glad. 

Time passes, and Bucky ends up wandering around the workshop and then farther into the apartment on Pepper’s invitation when Tony stays away.

“You should stay for dinner,” Pepper says when two hours have passed. “That’s the least we can do for making you wait so long.”

Bucky hums noncommittally. He doesn’t want to be a burden. He feels bad enough already that Tony is spending so much time on his arm. It’s not that the chafing was bad or anything. Just a little uncomfortable.

Instead, he looks around the apartment and his gaze falls to a painting that he didn’t notice before. It’s an explosion of color and his eyes are drawn to it immediately. He walks over to the painting, taking in the brush strokes, the weight of the lines. 

_That’s me_ , Bucky thinks. _That painting is me_.

“Do you like it?” Pepper asks, coming up behind him. “A friend of ours made it. He’s really talented, don’t you think?”

Bucky scans the bottom of the painting and finds the artist’s initials in the right corner: SGR. He hasn’t heard of the artist before, but he sure likes this piece. 

“We have a lot of his paintings. You know that one of the dancing man in Tony’s shop downstairs? That’s from him, too.”

Bucky _loves_ that painting. It’s one of the reasons why he actually prefers to go to the downstairs workshop for his checkups, even if it’s more impersonal. But that painting… It’s a drawing in charcoal with red accents, a nude without nudity, of a man dancing. Bucky can taste the emotion in that picture and more than once he’s wondered what it would take for him to take that painting home so he could look at it every day.

“Back!” Tony calls when the doors of the elevator open. He’s carrying Bucky’s arm, which Bucky hopes is good news. He walks over to Tony, gripping the blanket around his shoulders a little tighter as he prepares for what the engineer has to say.

“I altered the shoulder plate so it fits better now. If you keep building muscle, we’ll have to recalibrate again. I got some ideas to work something out so that it adjusts. People gain and lose weight all the time, if I want to make this a commercial product I’ll have to make sure it will always fit.”

He’s already walking off as he’s muttering. Bucky will never stop being entertained by his monologues. 

“You coming?” Tony suddenly calls over his shoulder. “I suppose you want it back?”

Pepper shoots him an amused smile and together they walk back into the workshop. Tony is fixing up some last details while Bucky climbs back on the gurney.

“James really likes that new painting we got,” Pepper says. “He just saw it for the first time.”

“It’s amazing,” Bucky agrees. “All those colors… I can get into art if it looks like that.”

Tony shoots him a fleeting smile. “Not when it looks like this?” he asks, holding up the arm.

Bucky sputters, trying to save himself from that blunder, but Tony chuckles instead. “I get it. Let me fix you up.” Attaching his arm is a matter of seconds and when it clicks in place, Bucky’s entire body relaxes as it finds its balance back. He keeps the blanket close as Tony inspects the fit, but it already feels so much better Bucky can’t help but smile.

“That’s what I do this for,” Tony says when he faces Bucky again. “To see you smiling like that.”

That makes Bucky blush and he looks away, shy.

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this for me,” he says. “Seriously, is there nothing I can do to pay you back?”

The look that Tony gives him makes Bucky immediately regret that he asked.

“How about this,” he starts, and Bucky braces himself. “That painting you like? The artist has an exposition downtown. It opens tonight and I'm supposed to make an appearance. Pepper’s coming too. If you’re available, I'd like for you to join us there. You get to see his work. I can make sure you meet him, too.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. There has to be a catch.

“Also of course once were there, there might be a few people who'd like to take a look at your arm-”

“Tony,” Pepper warns. Bucky wants to hug her.

“What?” 

“You can't put him on display like that. Honestly, what are you thinking?”

“Well, if you put it like that…,” Tony says, frowning. “But it's more like, maybe a peek at your hand? I'm not parading you around there naked.”

Poor choice of words.

A flash of a memory pops up in his mind’s eye. Eyes on him, cold, strange eyes, and he’s not allowed to hide or leave the room. He's soaked in sweat, his heat pheromones rolling off him in waves. No clothes to hide him. No prosthetic to make him feel at least a little human.

There's no air. Not enough air in the room and his lungs won't work. All he can smell is his own fear, all he can see the blinding light that's in his eyes. 

“Jesus. Bucky?”

He doesn't recognize the voice. Doesn't know where he is. He's lying flat on his back. What the fuck? 

“Bucky. James. Come on. It's Tony and Pepper here. You're in Stark Tower. You're safe.”

Safe? He hasn't been safe in a very long time. Any moment now the hands will come, hands all over his body, touching him where he doesn't want to. Teeth at the back of his neck but he knows the bite won't take, he knows that. At least he can trust that. He squeezes his eyes shut, wills it to be over soon.

“Bucky? Breathe with me. Slow down. Yes, there you go. That's real good, Bucky. Ssh.”

He comes back online slowly, his ears ringing, still panting like he ran a marathon but at least he's aware of his surroundings again.

“Christ. You back with us?”

Tony sounds really worried, wow. Bucky blinks and realizes he's curled up on the gurney, a warm blanket over him. Pepper is at his other side, wide eyed and pale. 

“Sorry,” Bucky says. He tries to sit up and Pepper helps him, keeps him supported even when he's upright. “Jesus. Don’t know what happened.”

“Panic attack. Probably something I said. I'm so sorry,” Tony says, and as far as he usually steers away from any form of emotion, Bucky can see he's genuinely contrite. “You feeling a bit better?”

“Yeah,” Bucky lies.

“I'm going to get some juice and chocolate,” Pepper murmurs. “You okay here for a while?”

What she means is, are you okay staying alone with an Alpha for a while. They know what happened to him. What Alexander Pierce did. But he hasn't had a panic attack in a long time, and he never had one with Tony present.

He was doing better, dammit. 

“I'm good,” Bucky says, more honest now. At least his brain can still differentiate that he's safe here. “I'm so sorry, Tony.” His own fear hangs around him, an acrid smell that takes over even the scents of worried and anxious that Tony is pumping into the air.

As Pepper hurries off to get Bucky some sugar and electrolytes, Tony smiles at him. “I'm the one who needs to apologize here. You feeling better now?”

Bucky’s heart is still hammering in his chest and he's shivering now that his sweat is cooling down, but he nods anyway. “Better.”

“Good. And I really didn't mean to upset you. There's really just one guy I want to show you off to. His name’s Banner. He's a Beta, and he's nice. If you don't want to, we can arrange a meeting here. He's a neuroscientist.”

Bucky chooses his words carefully when he speaks again. “You said the only one who was going to check me, was you.” He doesn't want to risk going against Tony. He doesn't want to risk him thinking he's not grateful for the arm. 

He doesn't want to risk upsetting an Alpha, ever.

“I did,” Tony said. “And I will. I might be a mad scientist, but I'm not evil.”

Pepper returns with the snacks and hands them to Bucky. She's not even subtle when she scents the air around him, gauging his comfort levels. As Bucky drinks and eats, she has a silent conversation with Tony, filled wholly with looks. 

Those two. The most independent people ever to set foot on the earth. Perhaps that's why their bond works so well. 

Bucky sometimes wonders what it's like to have a bond like that. If it even would be possible for him to find someone who would complete him like that. 

He wants to laugh just at the sadness of the thought.

“You know,” Pepper says when most of Bucky’s orange juice is gone, “you should just join us to that exposition. I'm going to stick close to you. You can leave any time, too. But you'd get to see more of those paintings, and if you decide then and there you're okay for Bruce to take a look at your hand, you can say so. If not, you just get to enjoy the pretty pictures.”

Her smile is disarming, and her scent is stable and comforting. Tony has calmed down too, the pungent musk of Alpha in distress eased back towards the darker spice that is his baseline. 

“Okay,” Bucky says. “But I'll need to get home to change.”

“If you insist,” Tony says. “I'm sure I can get you something.”

“I'd like to wear my own clothes if that's all right,” Bucky says, quietly. “Okay?”

Tony's gaze softens into something that Bucky wants to shy away from violently. “Sure.”

Ugh.

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi,” he says and oh god his voice. It's like a caress down the inside of Bucky’s spine and he wants to curl up in that voice and how is that even a thing, how. 
> 
> Or: Bucky meets Steve.
> 
> And Bucky goes into heat.  
> Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a banner! It's in the first chapter now. Go check it out!
> 
> The (solo)sex starts here. Be warned ;)

They meet up at the location of the exposition, some fancy art hall that’s famous for hosting the great names. Bucky hasn’t been in this part of town very often. It’s too crowded here to his liking and his skin crawls as people mill about him, giving him a wide berth. The scent of discomfort and distress must be rolling off him in droves. He clenches his left fist, feeling rather than hearing the quiet vibration of the arm’s inner mechanics as it moves.

Fortunately Tony and Pepper arrive right on time, and they both beam at Bucky when they spot him leaning against the wall. 

“You good to go?” Tony asks. He looks Bucky up and down, taking in his jacket and black jeans. It’s about as fancy as Bucky is willing to go. He’s already seen a few people who entered the expo and he knows he won’t stand out too sorely in his business casual. Tony as always is looking sharp in his flashy suit, and Pepper is wearing a sleek black number that looks like it’s painted onto her body. She looks like a dream, as always.

“Looking good, James,” Pepper says warmly. “Now remember, if you get nervous, just step outside, and if you want to go home, you can go. No matter what Tony says.” She hooks her arm through his steadily, providing him with an anchor he didn’t know he needed until he felt it. He sighs in relief and nods to them both so they can cross over to the red carpet that leads the way inside. To his right there’s a fancy sign with the name of the exposition. “Civil War,” it states. “By Steven Grant Rogers.”

The foyer of the expo reminds Bucky of Stark Tower, only here the floors are black marble instead of white. The ceiling is just as high, the ambient lights tweaked to perfection. The hall is filled with the scents of Alphas, Betas and omegas, both natural pheromones and blockers, perfumes, colognes. Bucky takes a few deep, steadying breaths and scans the room for exits. 

“It’s just through there,” Pepper says. “You okay?”

“I will be if you stop asking that,” Bucky says. He tries to smile. Fails. 

“You’re going to love Steve’s work. Wait till you see his line drawings and portraits. You’ll forget all about the dancing man.”

Bucky’s pretty sure that’s impossible, but he lets himself be guided farther into the room, through the big double doors at the end. 

Somehow it’s a little less crowded there. The artist’s works are displayed spaciously, with enough room to move around them without having to bump in other people. The first paintings that Bucky sees are in the same style as the color explosion in Tony’s apartment. He can feel some of the tension drain away as he takes in the drawings. If he can look at more of these, he’s suddenly a little more certain this evening won’t completely suck.

Tony wanders off immediately, caught by other Important People. Pepper sticks close to Bucky as she promised and together they meander, looking at the paintings and exchanging their opinions. He can tell by the way Pepper’s scent changes that he’s starting to relax a little. It helps that she’s here. It helps that his prosthetic is no longer rubbing against inflamed skin. It helps that the air circulation in this place is so perfect his senses aren’t continuously clogged with Alpha pheromones. 

When they arrive at the portraits the artist has made, Bucky can’t help but lean in close to look at a few of them. They’re so real they’re lifelike, the colors vibrant. It’s like the faces in those pictures are only a second away from smiling, blinking, moving. 

“So tell me more about this Rogers,” Bucky murmurs. He’s enthralled by one of the portraits. It’s of a soldier in the field, his helmet askew. The man’s eyes are so hollow it tugs at Bucky’s guts. He finds himself swallowing down a lump in his throat simply at the emotion he sees in the drawing.

“I don’t know much about art,” Pepper says. “But I know what he’s like as a man.”

But Bucky isn’t really interested in the man behind the paintings. He just wants to know how one person can capture so much simply by putting paint to paper. 

At that moment, Tony joins them again. “I swear to god, I hate these social events,” he mutters. “How’re you doing, kid?”

Bucky cocks a brow at the endearment, but he tries a smile. “I actually really enjoy this, so thank you,” he says sincerely. “These paintings are so beautiful.”

“Steve’s coming over in a bit so you can meet him,” Tony says. “I kept my promise.”

“Minus ten points for smoothness,” Pepper retorts, but her face lights up when she spots someone over Bucky’s shoulder. She lets him go - he shouldn’t be so alarmed by that but  _ damn _ \- and walks over to a man to hug him.

Okay, scrap that. 

She walks over to a sort of giant, who has to actually stoop down so she can wrap her arms around his shoulders. The guy is blond, and tall, and broad, and also tall, and muscled, and blond, and Alpha, and then his scent hits Bucky and god fucking damn him to hell but Bucky wants to roll around in that scent like a cat and never fucking wash himself ever again.

And that's when the guy looks up and Bucky is slammed stupid with the bluest gaze he's ever seen. 

All his thoughts leave his brain and all he can do is stare at the Alpha. Who isn't blinking, by the way. He's just looking at Bucky. 

Bucky gulps, and then Tony, being Tony, interrupts the moment. 

“Steve, this is James Barnes. He loves your work. James, Steve Rogers. Don't fangirl too hard, okay? He's kinda shy.”

It breaks the tension and Steve grins in a way that Bucky can only describe as bashful. “Hi,” he says and oh god his voice. It's like a caress down the inside of Bucky’s spine and he wants to curl up in that voice and how is that even a thing, how. 

“Hi.” Okay, Bucky totally didn't just have to try twice to actually produce any sound. No, really. 

Steve doesn't hold out his hand for Bucky to shake. And, well, maybe that's for the best. Bucky's not sure he'd be able to be civilized and if Steve doesn't feel the same attraction then it's better for everyone involved, really, to keep some distance. Bucky's damaged goods. And he doesn't want to be involved with any Alpha ever again, anyway. 

And then Bucky takes a breath and there's more of that scent and he thinks his eyes flutter closed for a moment because oh. God. 

“Seen anything you like so far?” Steve asks. 

Bucky's eyes stay shut as a shiver, so gentle like an intimate caress, travels down his spine at the sound of that voice. 

“What?” he asks stupidly, because he's Bucky. Because he’s seeing things he likes all right. Even clothed in a sharp fitting suit, Steve looks like a wet dream that should be on the cover of  _ Omegas Only _ .

“My work? Anything that stood out to you?”

Oh, of course. The expo. 

Pepper has disappeared. Tony too. Wait, what? And now Bucky is alone with Steve and Steve just asked him something. 

He's probably already made a fool of himself anyway. 

“I like the dancing man,” Bucky blurts. And then he realizes belatedly that Steve probably has no idea what he means and that the painting he’s referring to probably has an exotic name like  _ Age of Ultron _ or something equally meaningless.

“You mean the charcoal that Tony has in his place?”

How does this man sound so coherent when it’s all Bucky can do to shift as subtly as possible to hide his growing hard-on? He has to get out of here if he doesn’t want to make a spectacular fool of himself. Is it him or is Steve leaning slightly closer now? Must be his imagination. He’s not sure if he even  _ wants _ Steve to take an interest because he’s scared of Alphas in general and ugh, why can’t life just be fucking  _ simple _ for once. Just once. 

“Yeah, that one. But I really like your works here, too.” He was going to say ‘what you have on display here’, but even his  _ balls _ cringe at that unwanted innuendo.

“That’s one of my favorite drawings,” Steve says. “The one Tony has, I mean. I made him buy it so I knew I could look at it every time I visited him.” Those blue eyes shift to Bucky and the omega’s mouth goes dry in an instant. Steve has perfect lips and smooth cheeks and big eyes and he’s so tall and he smells so fucking good…

“Why do you like it?”

Bucky needs a moment to actually process the words because he’s simply so distracted by what Steve’s voice does to him, and he knows he looks like an idiot for it. Steve must think he’s slow on the uptake or something. Is he still here because he took pity on Bucky? And where the  _ hell _ did Tony and Pepper go?

“I... “ Bucky chances a glance up at those eyes and he’s  _ gone _ . “It’s like freedom. I like it because the man in the picture looks like he just dropped this incredible burden and he finally knows what it feels like to be free again. He’s not careless but he’s so light in it, and the red accents only emphasize that emotion.”

He stops rambling abruptly, biting his lower lip. Steve is looking at him, a vague little smile on his face, and Bucky knows, he just  _ knows _ Steve is trying not to laugh at his ridiculous answer. Bucky can sense some of the other Alphas in the room glancing over. His scent must be all over the place, leaking through his blockers, and distress is never a pretty smell to begin with. He can’t blame Steve for being uncomfortable around him.

Just as the artist takes a breath to say something, someone else comes blustering in - someone Bucky doesn’t know. Steve is physically pulled away into a hug by the other Alpha, effectively ending their conversation. The tension is broken and Bucky takes what feels like his first breath since his gaze fell on Steve for the first time. 

Bucky takes it as his cue and he forces himself to step away quietly, disappearing around a corner. Good way to sneak out and save some face, he thinks, but Steve’s scent lingers in his nose and his back is soaked with sweat. What the hell. He’s never had such a strong reaction to any Alpha before. He thought that only existed in movies or something. 

He’s still catching his breath in a quiet corner when Tony finds him. He looks at Bucky searchingly and Bucky knows what he smells like, what he must look like right now. He rubs his face, trying to get everything back under control. He can’t even get a read on Tony through the pheromones he’s leaking himself. 

“You okay?” Tony asks. “Want something to drink?”

“’m Fine,” Bucky murmurs. He wonders if now would be a good time to slip out of here and forget this ever happened. 

“Your scent is neutralizing again,” Tony says. “Want to talk about what just happened? And why you’re not with Steve anymore?”

“I…” Bucky starts, then frowns. What did Tony see just now? “Someone else came in to talk to him. Figured I’d take my leave. Don’t want to keep him tied up too long on a night like this.”

“Right,” Tony murmurs. He doesn’t look convinced, but after Bucky reassures him again he’s fine, he relents and waves over a man who’s been standing in the periphery, waiting to be called on.

It’s a guy with sad brown eyes and curly hair. When he steps up to shake Bucky’s hand in greeting, Bucky can smell the muted scent of a Beta and it puts him at ease immediately. 

“This is Bruce Banner, the man I told you about?” Tony says, smiling with something that looks like pride. “He’d like to take a look at your hand if you’re okay. Otherwise we can just set up a meeting next week.”

Bucky’s still rattled from meeting Steve. Tony, either oblivious or too used to Bucky’s messy state of mind in any crowded place, doesn’t mention it and simply waits for Bucky to answer him. But this guy Banner’s a Beta and he looks nice, and Bucky’s not even sure he could find his way to the train station in the current state he’s in, so he shrugs and peels off the leather glove that covers his left hand. 

Banner’s all over him immediately, but in a way that Bucky deeply appreciates. He constantly checks with Bucky to see if he’s okay, and he barely touches him. He also sticks to the hand, not even trying to push up Bucky’s sleeve, while he fires off questions to Tony. The Alpha answers them happily and Bucky zones out a little while they geek out over his prosthetic together. 

God, that Alpha… Bucky doesn’t think he’ll ever forget about that scent, not now he knows what it’s like to have it in his nose. And now that he knows it he can smell it in the air all around him too. It’s subtler though. Lighter. It’s coming from the paintings, probably. Bucky wonders if that’s the reason why he’s been so at ease here. Maybe it wasn’t even the ventilation system.

It’s disconcerting to think a certain smell can have such a profound effect on anyone, really. 

He’s shaken back from his thoughts when someone else joins them. This guy  _ is _ an Alpha, and Bucky doesn’t really like the way he smells. Then again, so far in his life the only Alphas who ever smelled okay to him were Tony and Nat, and obviously Steve, and Alexander to an extent, so he’s long since figured that an off-putting scent doesn’t necessarily mean bad news. 

Tony introduces them, too, but Bucky can tell how Tony’s face is a little more closed off, his smile a little tighter. Banner takes a small step back respectfully in deference to the strange Alpha and Bucky, incapable of ignoring that instinct, lowers his eyes as well. 

He doesn’t like the way this new Alpha, whom Tony introduces as Brock Rumlow, takes his left hand and manipulates the fingers without even asking Bucky if it’s okay. Bucky grits his teeth and is determined to play nice for Tony’s sake when, with zero warning whatsoever, Rumlow reaches up to touch where Bucky’s prosthetic should end and his flesh begin, and squeezes. Caught off guard by the sudden gesture and the unexpected touch, Bucky lashes out his left arm, batting Rumlow’s hand away. 

As Tony says in a harsh voice, “Rumlow, what the fuck,” Bucky has already taken a step back, panicked, and then everything is just too much to be dealing with anymore. His panic attack from earlier, meeting Steve, and now this… He can’t deal. Doesn’t want to deal. He turns and walks away, his long legs allowing for big steps and he makes his way through the people. 

From the corner of his eye he can see how some of the guests look alarmed, and Bucky wonders how wild he must look. But he promised himself, after Alexander, he  _ promised _ himself that nobody would touch him without his express permission ever again, and he doesn’t  _ like _ to be touched, god damn it, and why did Rumlow have to do that, it’s so inappropriate.

“James?”

Oh that voice. It makes Bucky actually falter a step as that voice tugs at him, and for a moment he has the all overwhelming urge to turn into the direction of that voice and curl up into that Alpha’s arms until he feels okay to face the world again. But he can’t and he won’t embarrass Steve by doing that, or himself for that matter, so he grits his teeth until his ears ring and walks away from the expo, from that scent, and the Alpha it belongs to. 

  
  
  
  


He’s not entirely sure how he finds his way back to his apartment, but he does. He stumbles through his door and locks it behind him, then leans back against it and slides to the floor.

Oh but he is fuuuuuucked. 

He’s not supposed to like any Alpha. He thought he was over that crap. At least he can be fairly sure he will never meet the guy again, so he won’t ever have to wonder how to keep a straight face if he’s confronted with that scent once more. 

Oh, but to have that scent close when he’s in heat, that voice in his ear, whispering dirty words or even sweet encouragement... the thought alone sends a wave of warmth rippling down his spine. Bucky bumps his head back against the door with a thump. Best not think about that, especially with his heat due this weekend. It’s Wednesday now. Hopefully by the time he goes in he will have forgotten a little what Steve was like. 

A small voice in the back of his mind begs him to call Tony, to ask him for Steve’s number. He could call Steve, just to hear that voice again. It would be so great. Bucky shivers just at the idea. But Steve had been so steady with him. Nothing in his scent betraying that the attraction was mutual. He’ll probably go home shaking his head at that sorry piece of omega who got shy like a schoolboy around a pretty face. 

Christ. Thank god he hadn’t done anything  _ really _ embarrassing. But as he replays how he behaved in his mind’s eye his face still goes crimson in belated embarrassment. He rubs his eyes until he sees stars, then lifts his sorry ass off the floor so he can undress and go to bed. And not dream of Steve.

  
  


He mostly succeeds re: not dreaming about Steve, but that’s more because he barely gets any shuteye at all during the night. He can’t help but replay their meeting over and over again, and in the morning he’s nearly to the point of googling the expo so he can figure out what a ticket costs so he can go again. 

When he actually does google over breakfast, he finds out that the artist himself only attended opening night anyway, so there goes any chance of running into the Alpha again. 

And it’s better that way, Bucky knows. He should still call Tony though. Apologize for running out like he did. He has had a few messages from him already, but he hasn’t had the heart to read them yet. Steeling himself, he takes his last bite of cereal and opens the texts that both Pepper and Tony have sent him last night. 

They’re not pissed with him, which is a relief. Tony is worried and Pepper begs him to call as soon as he’s able. Bucky just shoots back a basic ‘I’m fine, don’t worry’ and then goes to dress himself for the day. He has to do groceries before he goes to work at COY; the Center for Omega Youth. 

It’s a horrible name for a great organization.

He loves his job, really. He likes that it’s not quite full time, since his energy levels are unpredictable even on good days, and that he can put his degree in business administration to some use. He likes that he can decide on how own hours. He likes that he can easily take time off when he needs to - his boss is relaxed like that and the money that insurance paid him after the motorcycle accident is more than enough to cover unpaid leave. 

The Center for Omega Youth has several programs for ‘omegas at risk’. There’s therapists, creative therapy, lessons in self defense and a safe house. Bucky is involved with the after school program for omega teenagers ‘with baggage’, and it suits him to a tee. The kids love him, love that he’s not like the other workers there, smooth and collected and always trying to council them. They love his raw edge and they dig the metal arm. So even though Bucky works at administration, more often than not the teens come find him for a chat or a game. Bucky loves it.

Bucky also loves that T’Challa, who runs the center, gave him a chance, PTSD and all, and Bucky loves that he’s never had a panic attack at work in the five years he’s been working there. And even if he’s basically just a clerk running numbers, everybody seems to like him well enough. He connects with the omega teenagers who frequent the center, volatile and vulnerable, and he’s been taking some courses with T’Challa’s leave to try and become a peer counselor. 

God knows he’s had his share of bad luck to be talking from experience. He thinks the kids at the center sense that in some way, and that’s why they gravitate toward him.

It’s when he’s just about to leave for his groceries that his phone rings. Tony.

“Hi,” Bucky says as he answers. “Listen, I should apologize for yesterday, running out like that…”

“Nonsense,” Tony interrupts him. “I should be saying sorry. Rumlow’s a dick and he was out of line. I’m not working with him anymore.”

“Because of me?” Bucky asks, shocked. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“’s Not the first time he pissed me off,” Tony mutters. “You okay though?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Just wondered if you got home okay.  _ Steve _ wondered if you got home okay.”

“I did.” Bucky frowns. “Wait. Why would Steve want to know?”

“You don’t… Wait, what?” Tony stammers. “I thought…  _ what _ ?”

“You’re making zero sense,” Bucky says, floundering. 

“Apparently,” Tony replies. “Well, okay. Listen, I asked Jarvis to plan you in for next Wednesday, same time, for your arm? That work?”

“Sure,” Bucky says. “And thanks for yesterday, even if I behaved like an ass. I really loved this guy’s work.”

Tony says something that sounds suspiciously like “well of course you did,” but Bucky can’t be sure. “See you next week then,” he says, louder now, and the line goes dead.

What on earth is going on, Bucky thinks as he grabs his keys. What the hell happened yesterday and what did Tony think he saw?

He can’t finish his line of thought because the moment he steps out of his apartment he’s tackled by thirty pounds of enthusiastic toddler. He goes down dramatically, making it seem as if his tiny neighbor actually succeeded in pushing him to the ground.

“Buck-ee!” Peter squeaks. “Gots you!”

“You did,” Bucky says, laughing. “You’re getting strong, fella! I can tell you’ve been eating your spinach lately.”

“Just like Popeye,” Peter says solemnly, nodding as he climbs up Bucky’s chest. 

Bucky sits up with the pup in his arms and shoots a smile at his aunt, who is looking from the apartment door. May Reilly, a widow herself, is raising the orphaned boy. Bucky helps where he can, financially but also in ways of helping out in her apartment. He babysits the boy pretty regularly, and the little guy adores him.

“You gonna be as strong as Popeye, too?” Bucky says in reply, looking down at the toddler. “Gonna wrestle my left arm and win?” To demonstrate his strength, Bucky puts Peter on his left arm and gets to his feet easily, earning a squeal of delight. 

“Nobody can win from you, Buck-ee,” Peter says. “You’re the bestest.”

“I am? Wow, thanks!” He pops a kiss onto the little boy’s crown. “You been good for your auntie May?”

“Yes,” Peter says seriously. 

“Has he?” Bucky asks the woman in question, and she smiles. 

“He’s an angel in disguise, I swear. There’s no little boy sweeter than he is.”

Bucky knows how much she loves him, and he hugs the boy tight for a moment before he gently lowers him to the ground again. 

“Are you gonna color with me Saturday as always?” Peter asks, tugging at Bucky’s sleeve and looking up at him. 

“Ah, I can’t, buddy,” Bucky says. “But next week I’ll drop by and maybe we can bake something for Aunt May?”

Peter looks put out at the idea of no Bucky that weekend, but the promise of baking seems to put him at ease. Bucky shoots May, a Beta, an apologetic gaze, hoping she’ll understand why he can’t come over. 

“Come on,” May says, holding out her hand for Peter. “Let’s go inside. I’m sure Bucky has other things to do today than play with you.”

“Nothing is as fun as playing with you though,” Bucky tells Peter. Then he salutes them both and walks over to the elevator. 

God, he loves that kid. Loves pups, in general. Wondered what it would be like, before Alexander, to have a pup growing in his belly. To carry all that weight around until he put a brand new human on the world. Have a litter. To have an Alpha that actually loved and supported him.

Ah, fuck, don’t go there, Bucky thinks. Unbidden, the image of Steve’s blue eyes drifts to the forefront of his mind. 

But Bucky knows better than to linger. Even if he was clear on his own attraction for Steve, and he isn’t even sure about that, then still the Alpha would be so far out of his league you couldn’t cover that distance with a rocket. Steve wouldn’t give him the light of day, so Bucky shouldn’t bother chasing a pipe dream.

See? Easy. He’s better off alone.

Even through his heats, he’s better off alone. 

He goes into preheat late on Thursday, then stubbornly goes to work on Friday morning, covered in blockers and hoping to high heaven nobody will notice. When his heat hits Friday afternoon, he gets home only just in time to prevent his slick from leaking through his underwear. He’s never taken suppressants, never succeeded in getting the side effects under control, so he’d had to endure a few well meaning Alphas and condescending Betas on his way home, but he’s here now and he locks the door with shaking fingers, mentally preparing himself to spend the next three days in his nest.

He takes off his clothes on his way to the bedroom, letting them simply fall to the floor on his way. He got everything set up before he left for work that morning - movies lined up, water bottles and snacks on the nightstand, as well as towels and tissues. His toys are in the drawer, still out of sight.

Bucky turns on the shower and steps in while the water is still heating up. His skin is overheated and gooseflesh races down his body as the lukewarm water hits him. Just by the lethargy he can already feel in his bones, he can tell this heat is going to be a strong one. He washes himself with his favorite soap, the expensive stuff, and takes his time lathering himself up. The suds stream down his chest, tickling his already straining cock and balls. 

He doesn't even try to make it last. He moves his hand over his throbbing erection, twisting his wrist on the upstroke the way he likes. Biting back a groan, his left hand comes up to support him against the tiled wall. These are the moments he does miss having two flesh hands. There is no way he's letting his metal fingers near his cock. With the way those plates slide over each other when he moves, that's just a nasty accident waiting to happen. 

He should've taken his arm off to take his shower, he knows, but Tony told him he can leave it on from time to time and right now he really can't be bothered with details like this. He just wants to get off, and tries to ignore the big, blue gaze he sees in his mind’s eye every time he closes his eyes. He tries not to remember the scent of that Alpha when he barrels towards his orgasm, and fails wholly to ignore the memory of Steve’s voice when he comes, thick ropes of white landing on the shower wall. 

The climax barely gives him any release. If anything, it gets him only more keyed up. He shuts off the shower and rubs himself dry quickly, then simply rolls into his nest and turns on the tv. He's here for a while - might as well get comfortable. 

He got out his softest sheets, but the fabric still feels rough on his already oversensitive skin. Bucky shifts, closing his eyes at how the soft cotton drags across his thighs. He's not watching the movie he just put on, but he likes having a little bit of sound in the background. His laptop is on the floor by the bed, fully charged. If he gets really needy, he can always watch some porn. 

His hands drift over his torso, restless. His metal arm is warm from the shower, feeling less alien against his skin. More like the hand of a stranger, perhaps an Alpha, who would touch him just right. Never to hurt, but to cherish. Oh, but wouldn't that be nice. Too bad Bucky knows he probably wouldn't be able to tolerate any touch from any Alpha anymore. Alexander Pierce ruined that for him quite successfully. Bucky whines, a pitiful, needy sound in the back of his throat. It’s an instinctual sound, meant to evoke the urge to protect and comfort for an Alpha. But Bucky is alone, riled up and wanting, and nobody is going to help him.

Doesn't mean he can't touch himself, and with his lust growing, his body heating up, he's glad he can at least enjoy himself. His body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat and the room is filled with the scent of his heat. His right hand wanders down to his groin, fondling his cock. It's still soft, but he bounces back quickly during his heats. His left hand reaches for the night stand to open the drawer where his toys are. 

He invested in a decent fake knot a while ago, one that inflates over a set amount of time, like a real Alpha’s knot would do. This one vibrates too, and the sensation is just about mindblowing, Bucky won’t lie about that. 

He places the plastic toy against his side so it can warm up, and then moves his right hand down farther between his legs. The first brush over his hole makes him moan quietly. He’s so sensitive already, it’s ridiculous. Teasing himself, he massages his rim, spreading around the slick that’s already spilling out. When he presses just the tip of his finger inside he clenches up reflexively.

He takes it easy on himself. Since Pierce, he tolerates approximately zero discomfort down there, but he knows his own limits and just goes slow, even if his body is begging to be filled up. His finger slides in farther easily, guided by his slick, and Bucky doesn’t even have to actively pull a fantasy to the forefront of his mind to enjoy himself. He’s lost in the sensation as he opens himself up slowly, the process eased by the heat hormones that make him relaxed and pliant.

Before he works in the toy he gets out his laptop and opens his favorite porn site. It’s one catering to omegas and Bucky can’t help it but especially during his heat he’s partial to videos where big Alphas take care of their omegas so tenderly it makes his chest ache. He plays one of the videos he’s watched before and while the Alpha on the screen places the omega on the bed and crawls over him, big body boxing in the omega, Bucky lines up the dildo and fills himself up. 

The knot is set to gradually inflate over a time span of ten minutes and he turns on the vibrator, using his left hand to move the toy while his right hand slowly jerks his cock. 

Oh, yes, oh that’s good, just like that, Bucky thinks. He closes his eyes and lets the video play in the background as he works himself to climax, the toy filling him up from the inside out, giving his body a sliver of the comfort it so desperately craves. He has synthetic hormones he can take to help with his heat, but they always leave him nauseous for days after his heat and he tries not to take them if he can help it. 

Come Saturday afternoon, he’s a sweaty mess. His nest is saturated with his scent and his lower back is killing him. He’s contemplating changing the bed sheets, but that means getting up and no. He’s lost count of the amount of times he’s climaxed but to his frustration, the heat doesn’t seem to even have reached his peak yet. The toy only goes so far in providing him any comfort anymore, and he’s wondering what the hell he can do to bring himself some relief. Even the synthetic hormones don’t help like they usually do.

_ Steve _ , his brain whispers, but Bucky pushes that thought away. He’s masturbated to the memory of that Alpha more times than he’s comfortable admitting, but that’s what it has to remain - a fantasy. Steve’s not interested in him, he’s quite sure about that. And even if he was, Bucky’s not relationship material. He’s not going to bother Steve with his baggage. No way.

He wakes up after a fitful nap and when he checks his phone for the time, he sees a text message from Nat.

_ There’s chicken soup & lasagna in ur fridge. Took out ur trash, too. Check in when ur thru? _

Bucky sends back a  _ spasibo _ and stretches, rolling to his back on the mattress. Bless Nat for taking care of him like that. Normally Clint would do it, but with his pregnancy it’s not a good idea to be so close to an unmated omega in heat. Bucky briefly considers if he wants to eat some of that soup right away, but falls back asleep before he can make the conscious decision to get out of bed.

By Sunday night, he. Has Had. It. with his heat. Nothing is satisfying anymore. Not even his favorite porn videos are helping much and he’s so frustrated he wants to cry. All his body seems to want is Steve in his bed and even if he logically knows this is never going to happen, he can’t reason with his own biology. 

Bucky eyes his laptop, biting his lip. Then he curses, pulls the device towards him, and goes to Youtube. Types, ‘Steven Grant Rogers’ and finds interview after interview with the guy. His body relaxes just at the sight of the Alpha on the small laptop screen, and if Bucky weren’t so relieved he’d break something out of frustration.

Instead, he gets his headphones and plays the first video of the list. 

“So, Steve, welcome for joining us today,” some presenter says. “We’re going to talk about that Rembrandt that was recently uncovered in that attic. What are your thoughts about that work?”

“Well, to start with of course it’s amazing for such a treasure to come back to the surface after so many years…”

At the sound of Steve’s voice, even deformed as it comes out of his laptop, Bucky’s entire body jerks and then relaxes, something tight unwinding from the inside. His legs splay wide and the toy slides in easily, slick easing its way in. Bucky wants to look at Steve on the screen but his eyes fall closed anyway, his voice soothing something inside Bucky that was previously rattled, his instincts settling down like frightened animal put at ease. 

His climax washes over him unexpectedly, come landing on his chest and belly. The pleasure seems to be coming from his toes and he arches, a low moan escaping him as he works himself through his orgasm. When he comes down, shame hits him like a slap in the face. He just masturbated to  _ Steve’s voice _ . But he can’t feel too bad about what he just did. Not now, when he feels like he can finally relax for the first time since he came home on Friday. The peak of his heat is finally broken and as he lies in his nest, panting, he knows the worst is over now.

The interview is still playing through his earbuds, Steve’s voice causing goosebumps to appear on his skin. His nipples stiffen; his body is already gearing up for another round. Bucky turns off the vibrator and leaves the knot inside, then drifts off with the sound of Steve’s low voice in his ears.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on twitter: [@JC_Sunqueen](https://mobile.twitter.com/JC_Sunqueen)
> 
> I'd love to know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But Steve isn't looking. His back is still turned towards him and he keeps his eyes averted pointedly. Of course. Who wants to see a scarred amputee? Tony jumps up and walks over to Steve, who steps out of the workshop immediately, out of sight as Tony talks to him. 
> 
> They walk off, voices disappearing in the distance. 
> 
> Bucky deflates, his stomach churning. He knew he was right when he thought Steve wouldn't give him the light of day, but the rejection hurts all the same. It hurts so bad it's making him physically ill, and isn't that an alarming realization?
> 
> Or: Bucky and Steve meet. Again. And again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Bucky thinks very poorly of himself in this chapter. See end notes for specific warnings
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos you make me so happy!

Bucky doesn't come out of his heat okay like he usually does. His bones still feel heavy by Tuesday, and he has a headache that he just can't seem to shake. He’s bleeding more heavily than usual, the cramps debilitating and annoying. He'll give it a few days, but if it doesn't fade he's going to have to see a doc. This lethargy he's feeling can't be normal, and the intensity of this last heat wasn't exactly baseline, either. 

He tried to workout on Monday but he was out of breath after running just three miles, and his body was begging him to stop just after fifteen bench presses instead of the usual fifty. 

Maybe he's just getting the flu, but he doesn't like the way he's feeling at all. 

By the time he's on his way to Stark Tower for his appointment on Wednesday, he's a little drowsy on the painkillers that he took for his head and the ache in his muscles that is somehow not easing. He remembers to take the other entry though, and he's spared interaction with well-meaning receptionists as he greets the guard, who checks a device and then simply waves him through into the direction of the elevator. 

Being in Tony Stark’s inner circle has its perks, Bucky thinks as he asks Jarvis to take him to wherever Tony is when the elevator doors close. 

His stomach gurgles as the elevator starts its trek up. 

“Have you eaten any lunch today yet, sir?” Jarvis asks politely. 

“No. I’ve not been feeling so fancy,” Bucky admits. It's easier to tell an AI about that, since Jarvis doesn't have the ability to judge. Well, he shouldn't have, at least.

“Might I suggest a light lunch with some ginger ale to settle your stomach?”

“Sure, that would be nice,” Bucky replies. “If it's no inconvenience.”

“Mr. Stark has asked me to look out for your well being, sir.” The AI doesn't elaborate on what that means exactly and before Bucky can ask the elevator doors open, revealing Tony and Pepper’s apartment at the top floor of the tower. 

“Mr. Stark is wrapping up another meeting, Mr. Barnes. He's asked you to wait for him in the workshop if you please.”

Bucky nods and takes the hallway to the left, choosing to take the outside route to the shop instead of going through the apartment. He knows Tony probably wouldn't mind, but if he's somewhere on this floor, it's more polite to keep his distance. 

He takes a breath and stops in his tracks. It's like he can smell Steve here, but that should be impossible. Is his brain coming up with things, or is he just recognizing the smell that still lingers in the many paintings that are around this place?

Bucky shakes his head, frowning. He really needs to put that Alpha from his mind. 

The workshop is empty when he finds it and he hops on the gurney for lack of anything better to do. Pulling out his phone, he starts making a list for the things he’ll need from the supermarket when he goes there later. When he feels off he always bakes, and that's what he'll do when he gets home. Hopefully this appointment with Tony won't take as long this time. But his arm stopped chafing and he actually gained some range of movement after Tony’s latest adjustments, so it's all been good so far. 

It doesn't take long for Tony to come find him. He smiles at Bucky in greeting. When he walks over, Bucky is sure he can smell Steve’s scent on the other Alpha, but that simply isn't possible. Convinced his mind must be playing him now, he chooses to ignore it, greeting Tony in return instead.

“How have you been since last week?” Tony asks, gesturing at the arm. As Bucky happily tells him what has changed, Tony's tight smile changes into a genuine one. He's excited, Bucky knows. He's always excited when his tech works the way it should. 

He takes off his shirt when Tony asks him to do so, goosebumps rising on his skin as the cooler air of the workshop hits him. 

“Sorry again about bailing last week,” Bucky says when Tony turns to his computers to get the scanner equipment ready. “It was a dick move.”

“Rumlow was being the dick,” Tony says, not looking up. “I kinda figured you and Steve were okay, though?”

Bucky huffs out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, please. He probably just talked to me out of pity. There's no way a guy like him would notice some like me and besides, I'm done with relationships.”

The look Tony sends him is so decidedly unimpressed that Bucky frowns. “What?”

Just as Tony opens his mouth, footsteps approach. 

“Hey Tony, I forgot, did you have- oh gracious.”

Steve. 

Steve is there, at the entrance to the workshop, and he catches Bucky’s gaze for a second that lasts an eternity before he turns away.

“Forgive me, I'm so sorry.”

Bucky's entire body surges just at the sight of him, at the scent he now knows was here all the time. Not a trick of his mind. 

But he's half naked, and Steve saw his metal arm in all its glory. His scars too, littering down his left side like a cruel map. His stomach sinks as he pulls his shirt up against his torso, trying to cover himself up. This is awful. Any remotely positive impression he must've left with Steve must now be completely fucked. Steve has seen all of him… And it's not much to look at. Distress washes over him. He feels naked, exposed, and he'd leave if Steve himself wasn't blocking the way out the door. 

But Steve isn't looking. His back is still turned towards him and he keeps his eyes averted pointedly. Of course. Who wants to see a scarred amputee? Tony jumps up and walks over to Steve, who steps out of the workshop immediately, out of sight as Tony talks to him. 

They walk off, voices disappearing in the distance. 

Bucky deflates, his stomach churning. He knew he was right when he thought Steve wouldn't give him the light of day, but the rejection hurts all the same. It hurts so bad it's making him physically ill, and isn't that an alarming realization?

He sags, hiding his face in his hands. He loves the arm generally but right now he hates it, hates that he can't be a normal omega with two arms and a non-fucked up brain. 

Seconds turn into minutes, and the only sound Bucky hears is his own heartbeat hammering in his ears. 

“Jarvis, is Tony going to come back do you think?”

“Mr. Stark and Mr. Rogers do seem to be in deep conversation, sir,” the AI says. “Your lunch is almost ready though. Are you willing to wait for that?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, sorry. Can you tell Tony thank you for fixing my arm and that I'll be back in two weeks for my check up? But I'm not feeling great and I really just want to go home right now.”

“Of course, Sir. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

_Well_ , Bucky thinks, _unless you can fix me, not so much_. He thanks the AI and puts his shirt back on. Then he slips from the workshop quietly. He can't see or hear Tony or Steve anywhere, but is still grateful when Jarvis has the elevator ready when he reaches it. The trip down is quick, but it’s still long enough to notice the increasing nausea that is roiling in his gut.

He doesn't want to touch the reason of said nausea with a ten foot pole. 

By the time he gets home, he's exhausted and shaking, so he just rolls into his nest and sleeps fitfully until dawn. Feeling marginally better, he decides his original plan to bake up a storm could still work. He goes to the supermarket early, and by the time he pulls out the third batch of goodies, it's about time to leave for work. 

He's invited over for dinner by Natasha that evening. Bucky spends his entire shift at the center debating whether he should go or not. His workmates even asked him if he was feeling okay, since he's looking so pale.

Bucky's just frustrated though. He knows what he's feeling. He learned about it in school and books and movies use the trope all the time to progress the plot. Rejection by a mate will make the other person physically ill. 

Thing is, though, the concept of mates kinda requires the feeling to be mutual. And Steve very clearly does _not_ think of Bucky in the same way. So how can he feel like this? Is this really just plain old love sickness? Because if so, it _sucks_.

Maybe he just needs some distraction. If he spends the night at home by himself, he's not sure he can even avoid looking up those videos on YouTube again and that's not going to help the situation at all. So after work he puts on a fresh shirt, fills the Tupperware that Natasha brought over with food for his heat with muffins, and takes the subway to her place. 

It'll be good, he keeps telling himself. She can talk some sense into him and Clint might understand, too. And then they can stop talking about it and watch a movie and throw popcorn at each other. It'll be a nice distraction and it'll help him feeling better. 

Probably.

Hopefully. 

Maybe.

He doesn't exactly feel better when he arrives at Clint and Natasha’s apartment.

“Christ the fuck, what happened to _you_?” Natasha asks as soon as she opens the door. “You look like death warmed over.”

“Thanks, Subtle McSmooth,” Bucky gripes back. “Shit week, okay?”

For all her brashness, she takes the hint gracefully and hugs him fiercely. When he pulls back, he holds up the Tupperware container. “I made blueberry muffins.”

From inside the apartment, a loud ‘whoop!’ sounds and Clint comes virtually skidding around the corner, a huge smile on his face. He kisses Bucky’s cheek and takes the container from his hands, shouting a ’thank you!’ as he runs off with it. 

“For someone with hearing aids, he sure knows when to listen,” Bucky tells Natasha, teasingly. 

“I heard that!” Clint calls from the living room. 

As Bucky raises his brows and then lifts a middle finger into the direction of the doorway, Clint cries, “I heard that, too!”

Laughing, Bucky lifts a finger to his lips to Natasha and holds up the second container with another batch of muffins. He knows Clint by now. He'd have brought a third box if it hadn't been so much to carry around. 

Bucky breathes in deep and feels some of the tension leave his shoulders. Yeah, it was a good idea to come here. The happy scents of _mates_ and _pregnancy_ and _contentment_ are putting him at ease already.

Natasha smiles and takes his coat, then ushers him farther into their apartment. “You know that friend I was telling you about?” she asks as they cross the hallway and step into the living room.

Bucky stops in his tracks.

Steve.

Steve is here. 

Steve.

_Steve. Is. Here_.

And he's standing up and Bucky has approximately 0.3 seconds to make his escape. 

“Steve, this is my friend I told you about, Bucky. Bucky, Steve,” Natasha says. 

“Bucky?” Steve asks. Oh that voice. 

Oh but damn him to hell. That voice. Bucky swallows, his mouth suddenly too dry to move his tongue. 

“You know each other?” Natasha asks. 

Her voice gives Bucky enough clearness of mind to move and he spins around to leave, only to nearly slam into Natasha. 

“ _I can't stay_ ,” he says urgently in Russian. The breath he needs to speak is filled with Steve’s scent and he’s reeling from it, his body expanding inside his own skin even as heat crawls up his spine.

“ _Why not?_ ” Natasha asks, speaking Russian as well. She scents the air, subtly. “ _What's wrong?_ ”

“ _He doesn't want me_ ,” Bucky says. He's not quite able to hide the desperate edge in his voice. 

Natasha frowns. “Turn around,” she says simply, switching back to English.

“No, I have to go.”

“I said, turn around.” 

It's an Alpha order. One he could refuse if he felt strong enough to do so, but he's not feeling strong and so he obeys, turning reluctantly and lifting his gaze slowly to look at Steve. 

Who looks for all the world like he thought his puppy died but now found out it’s suddenly alive again.

Bucky doesn't understand the hope and bare naked _longing_ he can see in Steve’s eyes. 

He hesitates, even if it physically hurts him to do so. Steve smells _amazing_ , and a tiny fragment of his scattered brain realizes with a shock he must smell like that because of Bucky. Not because it’s his baseline scent. Because if it were, Bucky would’ve been overwhelmed the moment he set foot inside Natasha’s door. Or when he stepped into the expo last week. Or when he arrived at Tony’s just the day before. 

And then Steve holds out his hands in a clear invitation for Bucky to close that distance, to walk right into the Alpha’s embrace. 

He swallows. Hopes that nobody can hear the not-quite-keen that escapes him, and then takes the three strides he needs to close the distance and walk right into Steve’s arms. 

There’s no casual handshaking, not even a vocalized greeting. The Alpha’s hands come to rest lightly on Bucky’s waist, and the touch doesn’t even feel alarming or invasive. Bucky’s eyes meet Steve’s, and his body turns liquid just at the intensity of that blue gaze. Steve smiles, blindingly, and it’s a little dazed, a little incredulous. Bucky thinks he must look about the same.

That’s when he realizes that Steve looked exactly like that when Bucky told him his interpretation of the dancing man, but he doesn’t have time to linger on it, because Steve leans in and it’s all the incentive Bucky needs to get closer to that scent. 

They don’t even kiss. There’ll be time for that later. Right now, there’s something else that’s infinitely more important. 

Bucky leans in too, and in one fluent movement, like they’ve practised it a thousand times, Bucky hides his face in the hollow of Steve’s neck just as Steve does the same to him. Bucky takes deep, gulping breaths, finally getting his fill of that heavenly scent. Dark spices, musk, something earthy underneath that makes gooseflesh race over his spine.

“Babe, I need you in the kitchen,” Natasha says somewhere behind him.

“But dinner’s already in the oven,” Clint complains.

“Now.”

Footsteps disappear but Bucky isn’t tracking. He’s finally as close to Steve as he wants to be, tentative hands coming up to wrap around those broad shoulders. Steve wraps his arms all the way around Bucky’s waist in response, making sure there’s no doubt whatsoever as to Bucky’s welcome in Steve’s arms. Their bodies align, torsos touching from shoulders to knees. And Steve is scenting him, too, inhaling deeply and not hiding it, his chest expanding as he rubs his nose along the sensitive line from the hollow underneath Bucky’s ear to the collar of his sweater.

Bucky’s not sure how long they are standing there like that, but he moves with Steve when the Alpha takes a careful step backward. He sinks into the loveseat he was originally sitting in, pulling Bucky along with him and gently guiding him until Bucky’s straddling his thighs.

It’s shockingly intimate and Bucky’s alarmed by how much he’s _not_ alarmed by it. He keeps his face hidden in Steve’s neck, hoping the other man won’t see his blush. Steve rubs circles on his back with his thumbs, still scenting Bucky, and then one big palm comes up to gently cradle the back of Bucky’s head, keeping him close, letting him know it’s okay, that he’s safe. Bucky’s not sure if Steve even notices the soft hushing sounds the Alpha keeps making.

Bucky presses down his entire torso against Steve’s in an attempt to get more contact. His metal arm whirrs quietly, and it’s like he’s snapped back into reality. He stiffens, wondering how long this can last, how long until Steve figures he doesn’t want to be with a broken omega, until he realizes that he can do infinitely better than Bucky. His scent changes, like it must have done before, at the expo, and at Tony’s place. 

“Why so cautious, hm?” Steve asks quietly. His mouth is so close to Bucky’s ear that his voice seems to go straight into Bucky’s brain, and he lets out a stuttered breath just at the sensation. 

Instead of answering he just crawls closer, wanting to get as much of this as he can before it ends and he loses it. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Steve walks away. Steve just tightens his grip accordingly, and that’s when Bucky notices through his own trembling, that Steve is shaking too. He’s as overwhelmed as Bucky is, and for some reason, it puts him tremendously at ease. 

“There we go,” Steve murmurs. He’s still just cradling Bucky and even though Bucky’s big for an omega he feels small in Steve’s arms. Sheltered. He lets out a breath and pulls his flesh hand free so he can touch Steve’s nape, a careful caress just to gain more skin on skin contact. Steve rumbles his approval and even turns his head a little so that Bucky can reach better. Steve’s hand combs through Bucky’s hair, the touch soothing.

They stay like that for a while, just breathing the other in. Bucky can’t believe he gets to be this lucky - even if his name rhymes with it, luck has never been on his side in his life. When Steve makes to move after a while, Bucky pulls back too, only to get lost in the Alpha’s eyes. He’s never seen eyes so blue. Or a smile so bright.

“Hi,” Steve says.

Bucky huffs a laugh. “Hi.” God, he’s never seen anyone look so happy before. 

“May I kiss you?” Steve asks, his voice nearly a whisper. Bucky can only nod and lets Steve guide him forward, that big hand still cradling the back of his head. Not constricting at all, more like Steve’s holding something precious and he wants to protect it.

Steve’s lips are soft when they meet Bucky’s. Soft as silk and hot as sin. They keep it chaste, half mindful still of the fact that they are not alone in this apartment, but the simple touch burns like wildfire through Bucky’s veins. He opens his mouth when Steve coaxes him to, tightens his arms around Steve when he feels just the barest brush of the Alpha’s tongue against his. 

It’s a meeting, a _hello_ , a so-glad-I-found-you.

When he pulls back, they’re both smiling.

Natasha chooses that moment to come over to them. “Hey. We have about an hour till dinner. You’re free to go of course, if you want to. But the guest room is yours to use for the time being if you want some privacy. No funny business, obviously,” she adds with a wink.

Steve smiles at her but he never quite takes his eyes off Bucky. “Thanks,” he murmurs, then easily gets up with Bucky still in his arms. It’s a casual Alpha show of strength that makes Bucky’s heart skip a beat. He lets Bucky gain his footing before he takes his left (his left!) hand in invitation.

“ _Leave the door open_ ,” Natasha tells Bucky quietly, switching to Russian again. “ _If he tries anything funny, just bang your metal arm against the bedframe_.”

Bucky smirks but doesn't quite hide how immensely grateful he is for her protective streak. “Spasibo.”

Steve just smiles, waiting patiently, and then tugs Bucky along even if it’s Bucky who ends up guiding the way to the guest bedroom. Steve lets Bucky get in first and just when Bucky wonders if it’s going to be awkward for him to want the door open, Steve just closes it halfway - enough to give them a little privacy, but enough to give Bucky the idea that he can leave anytime, too. 

Steve then proceeds to kick off his shoes and climb on the neatly made twin bed, sitting back against the headboard, long legs splayed out. The smile he sends Bucky is positively sappy, and when he holds out his arms Bucky follows before he even really realizes it, toeing off his boots and crawling right back into Steve’s lap the way he was in the living room. His knees bracket Steve’s big thighs, their groins press together. He can feel the heat, feel Steve’s half-hard erection, but Steve doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to take care of that and it puts Bucky a little more at ease. 

Steve’s strong hands come up again around Bucky’s waist before they move up to his back, pulling him back in. He presses a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips before his lips trail a path along Bucky’s jaw. Bucky shivers at the sensation, then lets out a soft moan when Steve mouths at the hollow underneath his ear. 

Bucky wants to return the gesture, he does, but he fears that things will progress from there and he’s not ready for that. And if he has to say no to Steve when they’ve only just met, that’ll never bode well for him. 

Steve inhales through his nose, breathing deeply, and pulls back so he can meet Bucky’s gaze. His right hand moves so that his fingers can touch his temple, sifting through the wisps of hair that have escaped from behind his ear.

He looks… heartbroken. 

Bucky deflates. He knew it wasn’t going to last but he never expected it to end this quickly. He’d hoped for at least a little more cuddle time until that moment arrived. He looks away, biting his lip. 

But Steve frowns, ducking his head so that he can catch Bucky’s gaze again. He tucks a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear, the gesture so soft it pushes a lump into Bucky’s throat. 

“Who hurt you?” Steve murmurs, eyes filled with sorrow.

Bucky isn’t tracking, because this is not the scenario he expected to play out. “What?”

“Who hurt you?” Steve asks again, his voice still low and sliding through Bucky’s veins like opium. “Your scent changes sometimes. When we met, you were confused and then it changed to distress when you realized I was interested. At Tony’s apartment yesterday, too. The moment you saw me, your scent changed. And now again.”

He’s perceptive, Bucky thinks. Then again, his pheromones must be rolling off him in droves, so maybe it’s not that difficult to catch. Also, as much as he likes Steve, he's not getting slick even though they’re mates and Steve probably notices that, too. 

“I thought you didn’t want me at first,” Bucky admits. He moves to hide his face in Steve’s neck again, and the Alpha lets him, wrapping those strong arms around him and shifting so that he can more easily cradle Bucky’s body against his own.

“You looked so weird at me at the exposition, and yesterday you turned away from me, too.”

Steve laughs, a low, relaxed sound that makes Bucky bite his lip. He’ll give his right arm if that means he can hear more of that laugh, more often. 

“I’ve been so silly,” Steve says. He noses under Bucky’s ear, getting the most out of his scent, which has changed to more relaxed again now that they’re finally talking about the clusterfuck that has been the past week. “I’ll tell you my part if you tell me yours.”

Bucky knows what the Alpha means. If Steve tells his side of the story, Bucky will have to explain why he’s so cautious around Alphas. He’ll have to talk about Alexander Pierce and probably about his left arm, too. He dreads it already. Steve might very well still turn away if he learns more about Bucky, after all.

“There you go again, worrying,” Steve murmurs. “What can I do to put you at ease a little?” 

His thumbs are brushing circles on Bucky’s back, his arms strong, comforting. 

“Just… stay,” Bucky admits into Steve’s neck, his face heating up at his show of vulnerability.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Steve promises, but Bucky doesn’t believe him. Not yet, anyway.

Steve sighs softly, moves one hand to caress Bucky’s nape, and starts talking. “At the expo, I saw you and you smelled like every Christmas morning combined with my mother’s homemade apple pie. I couldn’t believe that smell. But it changed quite quickly, and when I smelled the distress on you I felt like I should keep a lid on myself. It was obvious I didn’t hold the same allure to you.”

Bucky breathes a laugh against Steve’s neck. “You kidding? Have you ever smelled yourself?”

“If I smell as good to you as you do to me, I can imagine,” Steve responds, humor in his voice. 

“But you looked at me so weird when I told you about the dancing man,” Bucky says, quieter now. Insecure. “Like you were listening out of politeness or something.”

“Well, considering I was completely distracted by the sound of your voice and your scent to begin with, and then realized that you were the first person ever to interpret that painting as I had intended it - I was a little off kilter there, all the while thinking, he doesn’t like you that way, keep it in check you asshat.”

Bucky pulls back at that, only to be met again with Steve’s dazzling smile. “My voice, huh?”

Steve nods, biting his lip and damn it but that shouldn’t be so sexy. 

“I have a thing with your voice, too,” Bucky says. He wiggles a little, just the tiniest excited bounce. “Tell me more.”

“When I saw you leaving like you did at first I was afraid it was something I did, but Tony filled me in afterwards.” At the look of betrayal that must show on Bucky’s face, Steve adds quickly, “not much. Just that you don’t like crowds and he kinda coerced you into coming with him in the first place.”

Bucky relaxes again. His left arm clicks quietly, an annoying reminder of the fact that he’s not _whole_. Instead of mentioning it, Steve lets him know he’s noticing the scent change again by kissing him softly, one, two, three times. He surges up for it, closing the distance, strong muscles bulging to keep his torso lifted. Bucky lets the heat he feels wash over him, curving down his back until it settles at the bottom of his spine.

“I was so bummed I didn’t get to see you again, though. Begged Tony for your phone number but he wouldn’t give it to me. I thought I would never see you again and would just have to get over myself.”

“But yesterday…” Bucky hesitates. “You turned away.”

“I wanted to give you some privacy. The discomfort was radiating off you and then when that increased when you saw me, I felt like you really didn’t want anything to do with me.”

Bucky thinks, then chuckles. “And here’s Nat, wanting you to meet her friend.”

“How was I supposed to know you go by two names? I figured I should forget about you, and humored her. She never mentioned your full name.”

“Close friends and relatives only,” Bucky says with a smile. 

“So what do you want me to call you?” Steve asks, blue eyes turning serious. 

“Call me Bucky,” Bucky says. “Please.”

“Bucky,” Steve rumbles in his low voice, and Bucky’s eyes slide half shut just at the pleasure of hearing his name in that voice. Steve chuckles lowly and then simply smiles up at Bucky, sappy as can be. 

Steve moves his hands to Bucky’s waist again. “Your turn.”

Bucky stiffens, and realizes a second too late that if he hadn’t done so, he could’ve kept with the excuse that his scent changed because he thought Steve didn’t want him. Just like Steve thought Bucky didn’t want _him_. But Steve already guessed that Bucky has baggage, and he lowers his eyes, curling in on himself. 

“Hey now,” Steve says soothingly. “Hey.” He squeezes Bucky’s waist in reassurance. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“But you’re gonna find out anyway, and then you’ll leave,” Bucky says, a humorless chuckle escaping him.

Steve raises his brows, as if the idea alone is preposterous. “I don’t think I’ll be leaving anytime soon, Buck.”

_Buck_.

Steve has known Bucky’s nickname for less than an hour and already he’s made his own version of it. Bucky wants to crawl inside Steve’s skin for it and he shivers. But he moves anyway, his legs starting to fall asleep after having been kneeling over Steve’s lap for so long. Steve moves with him easily and they end up lying down on the bed, Bucky’s head pillowed on Steve’s pec and Steve’s arm wrapped around his waist. 

Bucky’s on his left side, which isn’t overly comfortable, but at least he has his good arm free like this and he doesn’t want to put any attention on his prosthetic anyway. It’s disconcerting how at ease Bucky is in Steve’s arms, a stranger he really only just met, just because this Alpha’s scent is telling him it’s a good idea to get closer. 

“Why Bucky though?” Steve wonders when they’re settled. It’s probably to ease them back into the conversation, but he sounds genuinely curious.

“It’s from Buchanan. James Buchanan Barnes,” Bucky says. 

“I like it,” Steve says. “I never had a nickname. Though I heard my mom say my full name a bit too often when I grew up.”

“Were you in trouble often?” 

“Oh, you don't want to know. I was scrawny before I presented. Like, ninety five pounds sopping wet. But I don't like bullies, and I used to pick fights I could never win.”

“You were tiny?” Bucky asks, pushing up onto his elbow so he can look over Steve’s enormous body.

“And sporting a shiner all the time,” Steve says, grinning. “Everybody thought I would present as an omega, but then I popped a knot and went through the world’s most brutal growth spurt.”

Bucky makes a sympathetic sound. It must've been awful for him. “Everyone thought I'd be an Alpha,” Bucky muses. “D’you think we'd still have found each other if we’d presented opposite?”

Steve pulls him closer and lifts Bucky's chin with tender fingertips so he can kiss him. The softness of it makes Bucky's toes curl, and nerves start to coil in his stomach. 

“I hope so,” Steve says against his lips. “You're my mate. I can't believe I found you.”

Mate… Hearing Steve say what he didn't even dare to think about until now, it makes something inside Bucky explode and he crowds closer to Steve, wrapping his arm around the Alpha’s waist. He never wants to let go. 

Footsteps come up. “Dinner in twenty,” Natasha announces outside the door, then disappears again.

“She loves you something fierce, you know,” Steve says. “She's protective, too.”

Bucky chuckles. “I know. And I love her for it.”

“You're a great friend to her. And you speak Russian. Which, I will admit, is kinda hot.”

Bucky does _not_ blush. “I can do sign language, too. Learned it together with Tasha and Clint.”

“I heard about that. He lost his hearing in a motorcycle accident, right?”

“Eh, yeah,” Bucky says, growing quiet. “What do you know about that?” 

“Just that he was out with a friend and that this drunk asshole rammed the bike.” Then Steve stops talking abruptly and slaps his hand over his eyes. “Tell me I'm the world’s most insensitive idiot, please.”

Bucky frowns. “You're not.”

“But you drove the bike, no?”

“I did,” Bucky says softly. He's very studiously not looking at Steve. He moves again and his arm whirrs, straining under the weight he's putting on it.

Carefully, so that Bucky knows what he's going to do, Steve reaches up with his free hand and touches Bucky's shoulder. Bucky can't feel the touch there, but he knows Steve can feel the metal under his sweater. “I'm so sorry about this.”

Bucky lies back down, dislodging Steve's touch in favor of the ability to hide his face back in Steve's neck. He takes a deep breath, grounding himself. “Can't be sorry for something you couldn't help.”

“For the record, I don't feel any differently about you because of it.”

“You say that now,” Bucky mutters, too softly for Steve to hear. 

“What?” Steve asks. 

“Nothing.”

“No, seriously, what?” This time it's Steve's turn to push up on his elbow. He moves carefully so that Bucky's head comes to rest on his forearm. Bucky tenses at the sensation of someone hovering over him, even if Steve is far from threatening him. 

Steve looks down at Bucky, who pointedly refuses to look up and meet the Alpha’s eyes. It's dangerous to defy an Alpha like that, but Bucky is feeling strangely reckless. If Steve demands that he obey, then mating bond or not, Bucky _will_ walk out.

Steve does no such thing.

Instead, his fingers trace the sensitive skin below Bucky's ear, making him shiver. “What did you say?” His voice is soft, like a caress. “Bucky.”

“It's not important,” Bucky stays stubbornly. Christ. They've not even been together an hour and already he's fucking things up. 

“I'd say it is,” Steve says quietly. “Are you scared my opinion about you will change?”

Bucky deflates. “Of course I am.”

“Then let me say it again. You're my _mate_. I'm not going anywhere.”

Bucky's breath escapes him in a rush at the vehemence in Steve's tone. Since he's still hiding his face he can only feel how Steve pulls him closer and then stamps a kiss on Bucky's temple. Bucky brings up his hand, shyly, to touch Steve's chest. He can feel the solid muscles under Steve's cardigan and his omega instinct revels at the Alpha’s strength. Steve covers Bucky’s hand with his own, pressing down, letting him know it's okay what he's doing. The simple bit of skin-on-skin makes Bucky’s stomach flutter.

Steve's pumping out pheromones, his scent steady and overwhelming in the best possible way. He's coaxing Bucky to relax against him, trying to convince him that it's safe to be in the Alpha’s arms. Bucky takes deep, even breaths and finally just presses his face into Steve's chest in an effort to get closer. 

So what, he likes to cuddle when he feels safe enough to do it. That's hardly a crime. 

Steve growls low, a soft sound that Bucky feels rather than hears resonating in Steve's chest. Steve pulls him closer, pressing his temple against Bucky's crown. It feels good that Steve is holding Bucky just as tightly as Bucky is clinging to Steve. His body knows it’s safe even if his brain is still trying to come up with reasons why this should be a bad idea.

But the thing is, with Pierce he’d known they weren’t mates and while Alexander had smelled good to Bucky, he hadn’t ever felt this safe around the guy. Back then he’d ignored his instinct, thinking he was just nervous with it being his first relationship since he lost his arm. But now, feeling the difference with Steve, he finds he is struggling to _trust_ his instinct, to relax into Steve’s embrace like he wants to.

Steve pulls back so he can meet Bucky’s gaze. He’s smiling and it’s fond around the edges. His hand is in Bucky’s hair, fingers weaving through it and Bucky tilts his head so he can nuzzle at the tender inside of Steve’s wrist. The Alpha’s pupils are blown, but it’s not because he’s so aroused even if his erection has been pressing against Bucky’s groin. Bucky doesn’t smell lust on the Alpha and he’s made no attempt to coax Bucky into more than the cuddling and kissing they’ve done. It helps Bucky relax even more when he realizes it. 

No, Steve’s pupils are huge because he’s high on Bucky’s pheromones. Just like Bucky is on Steve’s.

And when Steve tilts his head in a silent invitation for Bucky to kiss him again, Bucky goes willingly, body relaxing at the touch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky refers to himself in terms like 'scarred amputee'. 
> 
> I'm on twitter! [@JC_Sunqueen](https://www.twitter.com/JC_Sunqueen)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day if you wish <3


End file.
